


You're Somethin' Else, Man

by ianclaytongallagher



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:24:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1785607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianclaytongallagher/pseuds/ianclaytongallagher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey had definitely been right about himself. He does like them sweet. He likes them sweet with a filthy mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Somethin' Else, Man

Now that they’re officially a couple, things have changed in some ways. Changed in ways Mickey hadn’t ever even thought they would or could. He finds himself doing stupid relationship things with Ian like taking fucking naps together and shit like that.

Not that he ever intends to take a nap with Ian. It’s just, ever since Ian had come back home, his sleep schedule had been wack. Now that Ian was medicated though, he’s no longer up at all hours, but seems to sleep a lot more than he used to altogether. Mickey isn’t sure if it’s a side effect of the pills or what, but Ian definitely seems to get tired easier than he had in the past, usually laying down in the middle of the afternoon to take a rest.

Whether they’re at Mickey’s house or the Gallagher house, Mickey finds himself sitting down on whatever bed Ian happens to be laying down on, and talking to him for a little bit as Ian closes his eyes and relaxes. Sometimes Ian falls asleep quick and Mickey just watches him for awhile, but usually Ian will end up grabbing at Mickey and dragging him roughly across the bed so he can wrap himself around him or tuck into his side and lay his head on his chest.

“Sometimes I think you’re part fuckin’ octopus.” Mickey grunts out one afternoon when they’re at Ian’s house, trying to maneuver himself into a more comfortable position, but Ian has his long limbs all wrapped around him and he’s holding on so tight, he’s practically being asphyxiated.

“Octopuses have eight legs.” Ian mumbles in that soft, sleepy voice that makes Mickey shiver, but even more so right now because Ian’s nuzzling his face into the side of Mickey’s head.

“Yeah?” Mickey mutters. “Sometimes I think you do, too. You’re gonna squeeze the fuckin’ life outta me, man.”

Ian laughs against his ear breathily, and _Christ_.

“You like it.” Ian says softly, his teeth grazing over Mickey’s earlobe.

Mickey shoves Ian’s chin away with his shoulder impatiently.

“Don’t start shit you don’t intend to finish.” Mickey grumbles. “You’re gonna pass out and I’m gonna be stuck here under your heavy ass with a fuckin’ hard-on.”

Ian laughs again, the sound seeming to come from deep inside his chest. He squeezes a hand down between them and splays his fingers over the crotch of Mickey’s pants.

“Gettin’ hard already, Mick?” He teases.

“Fuck off.” Mickey growls and squirms some more. “Go to sleep, asshole.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes and Mickey’s starting to doze off too when Ian speaks again.

“I don’t even think octopuses squeeze their prey to kill them.”

“C’mon.” Is Mickey’s only initial response, a whine to his voice. “The fuck, Ian?”

“I’m just sayin’.” Ian replies, shrugging slightly, but not relinquishing his grip on Mickey one bit.

Mickey let’s out a sound that’s a combination of a sigh and laugh because Ian can be so ridiculous at times.

“You really thinkin’ ‘bout one passin’ comment I made that hard?” Mickey sounds equal parts amused and disbelieving.

“I think about everything you say.” Ian says softly.

It’s comments like that, that make Mickey’s heart rate pick up like a lovestruck girl because he knows Ian really, really means them. Why the fuck Ian would ever devote time to thinking about anything he says in the past, present or future is seriously beyond Mickey.

“You need to get a better hobby, man.” Mickey says. “You should never dwell on anything I fuckin’ say. Half the time I’m talkin’ out my ass.”

Ian makes a warm humming noise that sounds like, “Hmmm.”

He finally shifts so he can rest his chin on top of Mickey’s head, effectively pushing Mickey’s face toward his chest like he’s his own personal teddy bear or something. Mickey doesn’t protest, half because he knows Ian needs sleep, and half because he fucking likes it. Ian’s shirt smells like cheap laundry detergent and just… _Ian_. It’s a homey scent, comforting.

“I know.” Ian says after another couple moments of silence.

“Know what?” Mickey asks irritably, voice blurred with sleep. He had been on the verge of nodding off again.

“That half the time you’re talkin’ out of your ass.” Ian replies evenly.

“Yeah.” Mickey says because he doesn’t know what else to say, really.

“You always have.” Ian points out and he presses a kiss against Mickey’s hair. “I just read between the lines.”

“Don’t know how.” Mickey says and fuck it, he buries his face against Ian’s chest. “Don’t know why either. You’ve always been a headstrong little fuck, haven’t you?”

Ian just laughs under his breath at that and closes his eyes, feeling sleepy and infinitely content. Mickey shuts his eyes as well. There’s not really much else to say. He _knows_ how fucking lucky he is to have Ian.

*

Ian wakes up first, which doesn’t really happen all that often. Mickey must have been more tired than he thought. He blinks and finds Ian just laying beside him, openly watching him. Mickey blinks again, and then his eyebrows knit together.

“Fuck you lookin’ at?” He asks, but his tone of voice comes out soft and unthreatening and half-choked with sleep.

“You.” Ian replies, unruffled by his words.

“You’ve just been layin’ there watchin’ me sleep?” Mickey’s face is priceless, and Ian can’t help grinning brightly at him.

“Yep.” He says, completely laid-back.

“What’s with the one word answers, you fuckin’ creeper?” Mickey reaches out and places his entire palm over Ian’s face, pushing his head away from his.

Ian grins some more and grabs onto Mickey’s arm before he can pull it back. He ends up holding onto his hand with both of his, and playing with Mickey’s fingers like it’s nothing, casual as a fucking summer day. And speaking of summer days, Mickey realizes it’s hot as hell in Ian’s bedroom and that must have been what woke him up in the first place. There are fans on in random parts of the Gallagher house, but it’s not enough to bring down the temperature of the late afternoon.

Mickey’s distracted by their joined hands, but when he finally looks up again, Ian’s wearing _that_ look. That completely enamored look, like Mickey is the center of his universe or something. Like he’ll never adore anyone more than he adores him. Honestly, Ian has had that look down since forever, but it still makes Mickey’s guts swim. Mickey licks at the side of his lip and then bites down, eyes shifting side to side to keep focused on Ian’s.

Ian’s tongue slips out to wet his lips which distracts Mickey again, causing his eyes to drop to Ian’s mouth. He anticipates Ian’s next move, parting his lips as Ian leans in for a kiss. Mickey exhales a small, sharp breath as Ian’s palm presses on his chest, holding him down against the bed.

“There’s probably kids downstairs, you know.” Mickey says between kisses.

“Don’t care.” Ian says, hands slipping down to unbuckle Mickey’s belt because kissing usually leads to touching and touching usually leads to… _well_.

“Jesus.” Mickey shoves his hands away before he can get them inside his jeans. “The door locked at least?”

“Dunno.” Ian says, unconcerned.

“Well, go fuckin’ check, horn dog.” Mickey says nudging him toward the edge of the bed. “I ain’t about to be walked in on for the thousandth time, ‘specially not by some thumbsucker.”

Ian gets up from the bed to check the door and when he returns, he has a grin at the corner of his mouth. Mickey reaches for Ian’s hips when Ian throws a leg over both of his and straddles him. Ian meets his eyes for a moment, then slides a hand up over Mickey’s stomach, pushing his shirt up as he goes to expose his abs and chest. Mickey can feel where his shirt is sticking to him as it rides up.

Mickey tries to breathe quiet and slow as Ian’s hand slides back down, gliding smoothly below his boxers, but he can’t help grunting softly when Ian pulls his cock free. Ian meets his eyes again for a split second, smirking overtly. Leaning forward, Ian parts his lips and let’s his spit dribble down onto Mickey’s dick. Ian slides his hand up and down a couple times, slicking him up. When Ian’s strokes begin to speed up, fist twisting on the way down, Mickey’s breath quickens.

Sweat drips down Mickey’s forehead and he pants along with the motion of Ian’s hand.

“You want it like this?” Ian suddenly asks looking down at Mickey, who licks his dry lips and looks back at him. “Or you want me to suck your cock?”

“Fuck, Ian.” Mickey mutters.

The way Ian can look him directly in the eye and just say things like that. _Jesus_.

Mickey had definitely been right about himself. He does like them sweet. He likes them sweet with a filthy fucking mouth.

He can’t bring himself to give Ian an answer, but his cock leaking in Ian’s fist, is probably all the answer Ian needs.

Ian leans down and licks along the head, swirling his tongue all the way around before moving to lick the pre come bubbling up from the slit. Mickey fists the sheets and tries to keep the noises to a minimum by taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Oh, fuck.” He ends up grunting out in spite of himself when Ian’s mouth slides down around him.

Mickey lets his head fall back, panting into the air, eyes open.

It isn’t going to take much, Mickey can feel it. He’s already half-way there and Ian has barely started. He warns him, but Ian refuses to stop or even slow down. When he comes, the noise Mickey makes is involuntary and strangled and not at all attractive. Ian swallows everything he gives, licking his lips when he pulls back, and then slipping him back into his boxers again.

Mickey just stares at the ceiling for a moment, trying to get his breathing under control.

“Switch positions.” He orders when he finally meets Ian’s eyes.

Ian raises an eyebrow at him and grins a bit, but doesn’t move a muscle.

“C’mon, man.” Mickey says gripping at Ian’s arms and manhandling him down onto the bed so he’s laying on his back because, really, he doesn’t have time for that shit.

Ian giggles a bit breathlessly as Mickey practically flings him down, and looks up at him beaming like a kid on Christmas or something. Mickey honestly doesn’t know why Ian always has to look so fucking angelic when the things he’s about to do to him are _so_ unholy.

“Impatient, much?” Ian says although he’s still smiling.

Mickey doesn’t reply, just positions himself so he can lean down over Ian more comfortably and then pushes his shirt up, sliding his fingers over his pale skin slowly.

And this is where their relationship has also changed. They can actually afford to slow down when they’re together. It always seemed like whenever they fucked in the past, they were always in a rush. They could never completely relax and enjoy it because they were always in constant fear of being found out. And when they were doing it, they were usually doing it somewhere they weren’t able to be completely alone or behind a locked door. Having people constantly coming and going in both of their houses had always been a setback in the past. Now, neither of them really gave a shit.

Mickey takes advantage of the freedom of pace now, finding himself doing super faggy shit he never cared or even thought to do in the past, like licking and sucking on Ian’s nipples and kissing every inch of his stupid ab muscles like Ian is something _so_ precious. And in all honesty, he is.

He yanks Ian’s jeans open with both hands and when he pulls Ian’s cock free from his boxers, unlike Ian, he doesn’t waste any time swallowing him right down to the base in one go.

“Shit.” Ian gasps in genuine surprise.

Ian’s eyes jump down to Mickey’s and Mickey is grinning around his dick, making Ian’s heart pound faster. Mickey pulls back achingly slow until Ian slips from between his lips completely.

“Don’t stop.” Ian finds himself saying.

Mickey’s already moving down though, licking and sucking at his balls. He and Ian are both sweating and it’s hot as fuck in the room so this should be fucking disgusting, but Mickey can’t bring himself to care. Ian’s hand moves down to Mickey’s head by reflex, but Mickey knocks it away distractedly, resulting in Ian holding onto the edge of the mattress instead.

He moves back up, wrapping his lips around the swollen head of Ian’s cock, sucking until Ian let’s out a whine. He pulls off after awhile, tongue darting out to lap at the slit causing Ian’s hips to buck up into the air, self-control thrown to the wind. Mickey’s solid arm puts a stop to that, pressing hard across his hips and pushing him down into the mattress.

Ian let’s out a string of curses under his breath when Mickey takes him all the way back in, plunging his mouth down around him, hands-free. Mickey’s head bobs up and down at a dizzying pace making Ian’s eyes snaps shut and Mickey’s name fall from his lips. Ian has never been very loud during sex, but when he _does_ make noise, Mickey can’t help feeling smug.

“Jesus Christ, Mick.” Ian grunts out like he can’t believe him. “You’re like a fuckin’ porn star sometimes.”

Mickey makes a choked noise that Ian swears would have been a snort, had his mouth not been so full of dick.

Mickey hollows his cheeks now, sucking hard enough for the pleasure to border on pain.

“ _Shit_ , not so hard.” Ian whimpers out.

Mickey pulls back then, looking up at Ian, lips wet and swollen. The kid looks so desperate, panting and perspiring, face all twisted up.

“You’re fuckin’ cute.” Mickey tells him because he can’t help it, he fucking is, and it’s all he can think at that moment.

Ian’s breathing hard, but he still manages to give Mickey a ‘What the fuck?’ kind of look.

“Cute?” Ian repeats, chest heaving.

“Fuckin’ cute.” Mickey corrects leaning forward and pressing a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to the head of Ian’s dick, as if kissing him on the lips.

Ian’s hips jerk at that, cock bobbing with the motion, and Mickey gives Ian the biggest shit-eating grin he thinks he’s ever seen on his face, if that’s possible.

Mickey moves to lick along the underside of Ian’s dick, catching the leak of pre come that’s dripping down his length as he swirls his tongue around him.

“So close, aren’t you?” Mickey says softly, however gay that sounds aloud.

“Yeah.” Ian whispers out. “Please.”

“Mhm.” Mickey hums in agreement, tongue still swirling before he reaches the top and takes him back into his mouth.

“Oh, God.” Ian says like he can’t control it, can’t hold it in. “So good.”

He slows his pace now, swallowing Ian down one final time before bringing his hand down to jerk the base of his cock while he focuses his mouth on the head. He tries to draw it out a bit more, but the slower speed doesn’t really help when Ian’s right on the edge.

Mickey’s favorite sound in the world is the sound Ian makes when he comes. It’s not an ugly grunting or groaning sound like the one Mickey’s sure he emits when he comes. No, it’s not really very masculine at all. Or loud. Usually, it’s just a soft huff of air leaving his lungs, like a gasp or a sigh. A wonder-filled sound, like he’s in awe or something.

It’s kind of fucking perfect.

Ian looks down in time to see Mickey pull off and swallow. He can’t help grinning at him and reaching down to wipe at the corner of his mouth with his thumb gently, even though there’s nothing really there. Mickey licks at the place Ian touches without thinking about it and moves to tuck Ian back into his boxers.

“You’re really good at that, you know.” Ian tells him.

Mickey rolls his eyes and tries hard not to smile.

“Needa take your pills, Ian.” Is his lazily mumbled reply, pushing up into a sitting position and letting his legs fall over the side of the bed.

Ian’s smile fades a bit. He doesn’t exactly frown, but he doesn’t look as post-sex blissed-out as he did initially, which is why Mickey hadn’t brought it up sooner. ’Take your pills’ is a passion-killing phrase if Mickey has ever heard one.

“Where’d that come from?” Ian asks moving to put his folded hands behind his head.

“Dunno, man.” Mickey says shrugging casually. “You just usually take ‘em after a nap.”

Ian’s quiet for a moment, just watching Mickey. Having his arms stretched above his head has caused his shirt to ride up again and Mickey starts tracing his abs absentmindedly.

“That tickles.” Ian says, fidgeting.

“Thirsty.” Mickey says and pulls away, rising to his feet. “Wanna go downstairs and get a drink?”

Ian wordlessly reaches out a hand to Mickey and Mickey takes it, rolling his eyes again, and pulling him up off the bed.

“Fuckin’ lazy.” Mickey mutters.

Ian laughs under his breath.

“You made me this way.” Ian insists and shoves Mickey in the shoulder on their way down the stairs, leading Mickey to raise his eyebrows at him and shove him back.

Ian laughs some more and feels victorious when he gets Mickey to smile.

Mickey gulps down two glasses of water and Ian takes his pills when they reach the kitchen.

“Kids are outside in the pool.” Ian says glancing out the window.

“Yeah.” Mickey says. “Maybe they got the right idea. It’s hot as balls in this house.”

Mickey drinks a third cup of water and looks out the window to watch the tots frolic in the swimming pool. He doesn’t realize he’s spacing out until Ian speaks again.

“Octopuses kill their prey with their beaks.” He remarks suddenly.

Mickey blinks a couple times to clear his blurry vision and turns to face Ian with a strange expression.

“Come again?” He says.

“Octopuses.” Ian replies nonchalantly, and Mickey realizes Ian has his phone in his hand. “I just Googled it. They have like, sharp beaks, I guess.”

Mickey tilts his head at Ian, staring at him like he’s from another planet or something.

“You’re still on fuckin’ octopuses?” He asks, and really, he would laugh if he didn’t think Ian was so bizarre.

Ian grins that stupid, sweet grin and bites on his lip, his cheeks coloring a little.

“I was curious.” He says. “I wanted to know if they squeeze to kill or not. That must be a common misconception.”

Mickey shakes his head slowly side to side.

“You’re somethin’ else, man.” Is all he can think to say.

 

 


End file.
